Semi-Sweet On You (Hot Cakes #4) - Erin Nicholas Page 0,2
shifted his weight in a clear attempt to look more casual and lifted his gaze to hers. “You’re gonna have to turn around if I’m gonna make a judgment about your ass.”
She cocked an eyebrow. Camden McCaffery was full of himself. Always had been. He didn’t care what people thought of him and he didn’t really care for rules. Like sexual harassment guidelines at Hot Cakes. He just said whatever the fuck he wanted to. She knew how to handle him. He expected other people to say what they were thinking and feeling too. Without getting fired, of course.
Though she suspected she was less likely to get fired for speaking her mind with him than she would be if she lied.
If he knew she was lying anyway.
It was a good thing she was very good.
“But you think I look okay from the front?” she asked, propping a hand on her hip.
He shrugged. Shrugged. And her eyes narrowed.
“Your tits look amazing,” he said. “But I’m not sure this dress is really right.”
Yeah, bosses should not say things like your tits look amazing to employees. Guys should also not say things like that to their exes.
But if Cam thought that sexism and blatant disregard for her feelings was somehow going to give him the upper hand, he was very badly mistaken. She could deal with sexist assholes all day without even rolling her eyes. Visibly anyway.
It was so normal in her world, in fact, that dealing with his three partners—her other bosses, who were actually decent men who respected women and liked working with them—was a shock to her system. She found herself having to remind herself that they weren’t being sarcastic when they asked what she thought.
But, yeah, she could handle Cam.
She smoothed the front of the dress again and looked down at her breasts. “Amazing, huh?”
That, of course, pulled his gaze back to her breasts. “Absolutely,” he said simply, with a nod.
Yeah, she was a very accomplished, unapologetic liar. Except to herself.
She liked his reaction.
She was thinner now than when they’d dated. They’d been seventeen and eighteen when they’d been together but looking back, they’d been kids. She’d never been curvy but she’d been heavier than now. She was now more toned thanks to workouts to manage her stress. And now with Cam’s eyes on her, she was really glad about every one of those sweaty sessions in her home gym and the yoga studio downtown.
“Well then, I’m thinking this dress might be just right.”
He met her gaze. “Turn around.”
She was also very grateful for ten years practicing schooling her reactions because that—the deep, gruff, firm command with the heat in his eyes—was really hard not to react to, even with all the experience she had.
She licked her lips, watched his eyes drop to her mouth, then turned—before she smiled.
She bent her knee, propping her hand on her cocked hip, and just stood, again letting him study her.
What did she have to lose? Her butt didn’t look weird in it so much as she just looked weird in it. This was not her kind of dress. The dress was way too sassy for her. It was a wiggle dress—the hem narrower than the hips which caused the wearer to take shorter steps and added a little wiggle to the stride—and was bright red. She wore pencil skirts but they weren’t this tapered, for one thing. They also didn’t cling to her hips and butt like this. The material of the dress was a silky, stretchy fabric that hugged her body, giving the illusion of far curvier curves than were really there. The bodice was a halter style, cupping her breasts and dipping low between them, with the wide straps hooking behind her neck and leaving her upper back bare.
And she never wore red. She wore black and gray and navy blue. She had one forest green skirt too. But, yes, lots and lots of black.
It was another very, very long minute before Cam said anything.
He cleared his throat though.
And when he did, her stomach clenched. Or maybe what clenched was lower. It was an area that she hadn’t felt clench in a while.
Probably since Christmas when Cam had nearly run her over in the crosswalk on Main and then had to come help her pick up her cookies and panties. She’d been carrying packages of both and had dropped them when he’d scared the ever-living shit out of her.
Watching him pick up the bright blue thong and scrap of a